


This Isn't Gridiron

by Aifrit



Series: 31 Days of Apex, 2020 - Voidstrike [3]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: 31 Days of Apex (Apex Legends), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Memories, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Team as Family, Voidstrike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aifrit/pseuds/Aifrit
Summary: Solace's "eternal summers" remind Anita of a paradise version of Gridiron, minus the radiation. Weather's always perfect here and if it wasn't for having braved Gridiron's dangerous atmosphere since birth, she would have preferred living here instead. Even now she finds herself longing for the radiation burns if it means she'll get to be there one last time. - Day 5, Family
Relationships: Bangalore | Anita Williams/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Series: 31 Days of Apex, 2020 - Voidstrike [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812301
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	This Isn't Gridiron

**Author's Note:**

> Title: This Isn't Gridiron  
> Pairing: Bangalore/Wraith (Voidstrike)  
> Rating: T for PTSD refs  
> Words: 862  
> A/N: Another thing for 31 Days of Apex!

Solace's "eternal summers" remind Anita of a paradise version of Gridiron, minus the radiation. Weather's always perfect here and if it wasn't for having braved Gridiron's dangerous atmosphere since birth, she would have preferred living here instead. Even now she finds herself longing for the radiation burns if it means she'll get to be there one last time.

At least… at least it's quiet outside of the Paradise Lounge. It's the Legends' day off with another scheduled tomorrow, and everyone just wanted to relax for once. So, they decided on karaoke at Elliott's suggestion. If Ajay and Octavio's drunk warbling are any indication, she'd say they're having a fantastic time. But she just can't do it. Not today.

The back door opens and shuts behind her. She doesn't know who it is, but guessing by the near-silent footsteps and short strides, she has a hunch. The person only walks up beside her to rest their arms on the railing, mimicking her.

Anita glances to her left. Wraith only gazes forward, smoky blue-grey eyes missing their usual otherworldly glow. They stand in silence for several minutes, and during that time, some random, unrecognizable patron has taken the mic for their song back inside the bar.

"Everything okay?" Wraith finally asks.

Anita hums. "Yeah."

"I'm not a fan of karaoke either. Don't feel bad if you don't want to participate."

Anita opens her mouth, wants to explain, but doesn't. What does it matter, really?

Another minute or two of silence passes. It's getting pitch black out and if this were Gridiron, it'd be peak hours to go out and congregate. Instead, she wants to go home. The music and laughing twists her stomach into the tightest knot.

Wraith speaks again. "You’ve been out here for half an hour. Everyone's worried about you." She isn't one to cut corners or beat around the bush; Anita’s surprised she took that long to say it.

"That why you're out here?"

"Partially."

"And what's the other reason?"

" _I'm_ worried about you."

Out of the corner of her eye, Anita sees Wraith stand up straight to rest her hip against the railing.

"Bang. Are you sure you're okay? You know you can talk to me about anything."

"Don't worry about it."

The response she comes up with is quick and direct and it shuts Wraith down, at least for now. She hates people questioning her. If she says she's fine, just leave it and let her be. It's not that important anyway. She can just leave and enjoy the rest of her evening at home alone.

But does she want to? Back on Gridiron, she'd party until the crack of dawn if she could. Sure, this isn't her home planet - the weather's much nicer and she can actually _go outside_ in broad daylight without being cooked alive. There's plenty of opportunity to hang out tomorrow doing something else. She doesn't need to be here for… _this_.

If she leaves now, then _she_ looks like the asshole who ruined everyone's night. And then how would she fare? A part of her doesn't care, but the other part _cares so deeply_. She just… can't bring herself to. This isn't Gridiron, this isn't her home, this isn't her…

This isn't her family.

She blinks in rapid succession to rid herself of the sting of oncoming tears.

"I can't," she finally croaks.

Her eyes dart between everything and nothing out in the distance. Anything to reset and center herself. Anything to keep the tears and emotions away.

"I just… I can't. I can't go back in there."

The sound of music - the rhythm, the melody, the harmony - twists deeper in her gut like a knife. Brings back sharp and vivid memories she can't break free from.

"I can't. I can't. I can't do it."

Her breathing quickens and she stands, leans against the balcony to alleviate the pain. It doesn't work. Her head feels heavy, her chest feels full, and she's starting to tremble. She closes her eyes and covers her face with her hands. Nothing helps. She just wants to leave. To go _home_.

She can't concentrate, can't focus. The next she realizes, she's sitting on the floor with her head nestled between Wraith's neck and shoulder, tears flowing but no sobs wracking her body. It's still hard to breathe, but she manages.

Wraith's whispering to her, right at her temple, grazing the back of her head.

The back door opens and shuts. At some point, two familiar voices murmur around her and another warm body sits at her left and hugs her. Then a second at her back. She can't show her face. Not like this.

It’s an eternity before her breathing returns to normal. Wraith tilts her head, utters a few words, and the two trickle away and leave, one by one. Wraith hugs her tighter and rubs her back, right between her shoulder blades. Keeps whispering affirmations.

The pain fizzles but doesn't go out completely. It still lingers. It still burns. It always will.

Anita knows this isn't Gridiron. She knows this isn't her family - her _real_ family. But it's what she has for now, and maybe that's okay.


End file.
